Welcome to Arden

Downtown was the perfect place to hide.

The first star that I saw last night was a headlight

Of a man-made sky, but man- made never made our dreams collide,

Collide.

Last week found me living for nothing but deadlines,

With my dead beat sky but, this town doesn't look the same tonight

These dreams started singing to me out of nowhere

And in all my life I don't know that I ever felt so alive,

Alive

I remember vividly the day that Ryan came to Arden. The truck's wheels carved two ruts in the center of the road as it splashed through the mud in the center of town. The sky was a muddy twilight, lit by only the streetlights on the curb.

He jumped out of the car, his boots splashing against the mud. The trees above him splattered droplets on his face as he pushed through the leaves. He was too tall to avoid brushing his head through the limbs as he walked.

He was new to the town. A wandering soul. There was nothing new about this. Yes, it was a new town. A new planet, even. But the routine was the same.

First thing he did was seek out the first establishment that looked promising. In this case, the establishment proved to be Arden's local bar. It was technically tagged as a restaurant to appeal to the family-friendly types, but even the stupidest citizens knew that it was a bar. Alcoholic beverages were served with no abandon, and it wasn't uncommon to see a drunkard stumbling out over the broken floorboards on the rickety wooden porch, or retching over the side of the railing.

Ryan didn't know all this though, so he plunged onward, squaring his shoulders as the rain ran down his hoodie. He didn't mind. He was used to it. And if anything, the rain helped jar his senses; helped him feel at least somewhat alive.

He mounted the steps and pushed open the sagging wooden door. His senses were immediately on edge. The smoky atmosphere, the dim red lighting, and the sound of conversation and clinking glasses. All of it was a far cry from the pounding of the raindrops outside the door.

He made his way to the counter and balanced himself on a bar stool. The man crossed over, wiping his hand on a dirty towel. "You're new."

It wasn't a question. Ryan hesitated to answer, weighing his options and the honesty conveyed in the man's eyes.

"Don't try to lie to me, boy. I know all the faces in Arden, and you're not one of them." The man's breath was rancid, and he wore a filthy white tanktop. A silver chain hung around his neck, with no apparent purpose other than to look cool. Whether he actually succeeded at looking cool was debatable.

An empty straw wrapper lay nearby. Ryan twisted it between his fingers as he considered a response. "Is Arden really that small?"

"Heck, you bet, boy." The man banged his hands down smack on the countertop, a sound which made Ryan jump due to the suddenness. "So. What'll it be?"

The sneer on the man's face made Ryan uneasy. He twisted the straw wrapper back and forth. Back and forth. He wasn't sure whether it was safe to be here. And yet, was it even that much better outside?

"Water." He crumpled the straw wrapper into a ball. "Just water. On ice."

The man chuckled, a deep sound that rolled out of his pot belly. "Water? Hear that, Clark? He wants water!"

Ryan followed the man's gaze to the person sitting next to him, a middle-aged man with dark hair. "Calm down, Gerry. Just because you like your drinks hard doesn't mean everyone does."

"Hm." The man grunted and went to the back wall, where an arrayment of taps and metal spickets hung.

"Welcome to Arden." The man next to Ryan stuck out his right hand. "Clark Townsend."

Ryan returned the handshake. "Ryan Something."

"How long have you been here?"

"About fifteen minutes. Just drove in, actually." Ryan then took to squeezing the crushed straw wrapper between his fingers.

"Do you have family here?" Clark continued to press.

Ryan shook his head quickly. "No."

"Just passing through?"

Ryan lifted his shoulders in a shrug. "Yep. Pretty much."

"Well, then. Welcome to Arden." The stranger's grim was disarming. Warm. Strange. It unnerved Ryan, but not in a dangerous way. At least... he didn't think so.

"Thanks."

Gerry -- the bartender -- came back and slid a plastic mug in front of Ryan. "There ya go, stranger."

Ryan nodded. "How much will this be?"

"On the house," Clark piped up. "I'll cover it."

Ryan lowered his brow. "I have money."

Clark nodded. "Don't deny that. But I want to give you a taste of what a wonderful town Arden really is. And I hope you'll stay."

Ryan considered this, then finally agreed on a nod. "I appreciate it; thank you."

Then he let his thoughts drift along like a boat on a sea of pondwater.